


MIDLANDS: The Seduction of Frankie Heck Pt 2

by RoryOmore



Series: Midlands The Seduction of Frankie Heck [1]
Category: 2 Broke Girls, The Middle
Genre: Adultery, Cheating, F/M, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, Sex, Sexual Inexperience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9408257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryOmore/pseuds/RoryOmore
Summary: Frankie tries to have her cake and eat it too.





	

Out here in the middle these days you never know who you’re gonna meet…

CHAPTER ONE  
MAX

Well, it turns out that internet confession is good for the soul. You can do it naked, like I am right now, you don’t have to look anybody in eye, and you get to choose which responses you want to accept. 

There were a lot of responses to my first confession. Some people wanted to marry me, a bunch of them wanted to do unprintable, unimaginable, and I’m sure physically impossible things to me. A few people called me a whore and a Jezebel, which I expected, but a lot more were sympathetic and encouraged me to further unburden my dark, troubled soul. Somehow they had sensed that I had only scratched the surface, and they were right.

####

(There’s no sex in this chapter, but I think you’ll like Max as a person, and she certainly figures sexually later on in the story. Or you could skip down to Chapter Two where you’ll find me up to some new tricks.)

So anyways, that Monday morning, for probably the first time in my life, I was ready and waiting before my ride arrived. I had been so excited the night before that I had hardly slept, and I jumped right out of bed as soon as Mike left. I said to him as he was getting out of bed, “You're going to have to look after the kids, I'm not going to be back until maybe after ten.”

“Don't you worry about that, you just concentrate on not screwing up again. For once in your life, don’t argue, and make an effort, okay Frankie. And it's time the kids grew up, damn it. Maybe if you’d stop coddling them so much, they’d wouldn’t be so weird.”

He doesn't like any of us, I thought. Well at least he was making it easier for me to put my foot on this particularly slippery slope. After all, I was off to a job that I had been offered because I was, if not actually screwing the boss, at least being damned friendly to him. Of course Mike didn’t know that, but still he was practically pushing me out the door and telling me not to make any trouble. Well then, I would just have to do my best to please my new boss.

I gave a lot of thought to what I was going to wear. It sounded like there might be dirty work, at least part of the time, which was okay because I had lots of grubby clothes to choose from. But it was also my first day, you know, kinda like the first day of school when you want to make a good impression. Then there was the nagging question of just what some of my…duties…were going to entail. Maybe Tom was going to expect me to look my best for him. What to do? In the end I went with my most presentable clothes, which is to say I wore my best jeans, not too saggy, and not too worn in the thighs and butt, a white T with a button-up blouse over top, and a fairly new, long sleeved, canary yellow sweater with a low scoop front on top of that. In the end it wasn’t that important. (See Chapter Two).

When the pickup drove into our driveway I thought it was just someone doing a turn around, so it took me a minute to realize it was for me. I’d been expecting a beat up old car like I used to own, not some brand new four by four. It didn’t have a lot of shiny things on it, and it needed a wash, but it looked like the kind of truck that Sam Elliot would drive. I'm not sure who I expected to be in the driver’s seat, but I sure wasn't expecting Max.

She was younger than I expected, just mid-twenties, and she was definitely not a Hoosier. Her idea of a work outfit was tight blue jeans and a bulky V-neck sweater that hugged her busty figure. She had thick raven hair, a cute, moon face and big red lips. 

“Hi I'm Max,” she said sticking out her hand as I got in. “You must be Frankie.”

“Hi,” I said.

“Frankie, that's a great name. Love that name. Frankie and Max, we sound like a couple of old timey gangster molls; alright!”

She backed recklessly out of the driveway and headed off down the street following the instructions from a GPS. After it repeated directions a couple of times she said, “I heard you the first time bitch.” She smiled at me, taking her eyes off the road. “Do you know how to get outta here and onto the road to Midland?” She asked.

“I do, yes, can I help?” I replied eagerly; she seemed to be driving a lot more machine than she knew how to handle.

“Great, you can tell me where to go,” she reached over and jabbed at buttons until the voice finally shut up. “I hate that chick,” she said. “Why, don't they make these things with guy voices, you know, like Antonio Banderas or Daniel Craig, or even RuPal?” Then she launched into a series of impressions of different GPS voices, which had me in stitches as we barreled out of Orson. We were on the highway before I even had the chance to complete a whole sentence.

“Nice truck,” I said. “You must make pretty good money.” I was hoping she would say that she’d made it on Storage Wars, or something like that. She looked like the kind of broad that would be on TV.

“I …wish… I was making that kind of money,” she replied laughing. “This is a company truck; Mr Smith lets me use it, he pays for everything, maintenance, gas, even my insurance which I believe is …pre…tty… high.”

“Because you’ve had a lot of accidents?” I asked nervously.

“Hell no, I haven't had the time! I'm a city girl… inner… city; I’ve never even owned a scooter before in my life.” She thought that was hilarious. “I only got my license about two weeks ago, just before I came out here.”

“Don't take this wrong, but maybe you’d like me to drive for a while?” I suggested.

It was another clear, cold day, and the highway was dry, but she still seemed to be having trouble keeping it between the lines.

“That's what I was thinking. I need the practice, but it would be great if you drove us home at night, you know, if we’re together. I'm not so good in the dark.”

“Sure, we can do that,” I replied with a thin smile, she was a lot of fun, but I didn’t want to end up dead on the first day of my new job. “So how did you end up in Orson?” I asked, truly interested; she was the most interesting person I’d ever met, well except for Tom, but that was different. 

“Oh, it's your usual New York City story. I was a wise ass street kid working as a waitress in a cheap diner owned by a little Korean guy, when I met a pretty, rich girl who’d lost everything when her father went to jail for stealing a bizillion bucks from other rich people. We fell madly in love and lived happily ever after.”

“Oh.”

“Just kidding Frankie!” She laughed hard, punched me on the shoulder, regained control of the truck and kept going. She wasn’t going that fast, it was just that she didn’t seem to have a feel for the brakes, or the steering wheel for that matter. I thought Tom was insane to let her use such a big vehicle when she was just learning to drive. “Anyway I met this great guy – cute, funny, racially ambiguous, you know the type.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes fixed on the road hoping she’d follow my example. I was still listening, although I didn’t think that Orson had any racially ambiguous citizens. I wasn’t even sure what a racially ambiguous person would look like.

“I thought he was just a regular Joe, but it turned out that he was really a secret millionaire who liked to make people think he was poor so that they wouldn't be after him for his money. I didn't think we could be together because he was rich and all, but, you know I… did… manage to get over that, and we lived happily ever after.”

“I'm not falling for that one again,” I replied.

“No? Well oddly enough it turned out that he really wasn't a secret rich guy, just a colossal douche con artist who made people believe he was a secret rich guy so that he could take their money.”

“But you didn't have any money,” I noted, not sure if she was pulling my leg or not.

“No, but he got me to do some things that I didn't know were illegal, I just thought they were, like, normal rich people things. How the hell do I know what rich people do with their money, right? Of course the heat came down, he split and I took the fall.”

“That’s awful,” I said in a non-committal way.

“No shit. So I wound up in jail, which was pretty much where I always expected I’d end up, but I never thought I'd be there because I was a patsy. That really hurt.”

“And …then… you lived happily ever after?”

“Right. I was totally screwed, then along comes this rich lawyer lady and says that she’ll take my case and get the charges dropped if I clean up my act.”

“Lot of rich people in your story,” I observed suspiciously.

“Hey, it's New York City, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a rich person. So this lawyer lady got me out, and part of “cleaning up my act” was to get as far away from the big bad city as possible, and I guess this is it… Orsehole, Indiana.”

“It's Orson, but I get your meaning,” I replied with a sigh. “You know, sometimes we have deer around here,” I warned.

“Deer, cool.”

‘No, I mean we get deer out on the highway.”

“Ya, but they get out of the way, right?”

“Not always.”

“Shit, that must be really bad for them.”

“And us. That’s why we try to… slow down… in the wooded areas like this,” I said.

“Cool, ya I’ll have to remember that,” she replied without slowing down at all. Before I could say anything about that she was talking again; “No offense you know, Orsenhole….”

“Orson.”

“…… and all, I love it out here, I love you Corn Huskers.”

“We're Hoosiers.”

“Hoosiers? That can't be a real word,” she laughed, she had different kinds of laughs, this one was like a bark.

“It is, never mind. It sounds like a lot of things have happened in your life, how old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-eight, how old are you?”

“Not… quite… old enough to be your mother.”

“Frankie, if you’re forty you're old enough to be… my… mother. So what's your story?”

“Me? I'm from Orson. High school graduate, married young to my high school sweetheart, had three kids, house, mortgage, debt, blah, blah, blah, I'm falling asleep talking about it, and it's my life. Then I met Mr Smith and things have started to look up.” 

“Cool, ya, he’s a nice guy,” she replied without any hint as to just how nice he was to her, besides lending her the truck all expenses paid.

“So, did you learn about antiques and collectables like at college?” I asked, I didn’t know if maybe there were actual qualifications for what we were going to be doing.

She laughed so hard that we almost went off the highway, not just onto the shoulder this time, but almost all the way into the ditch. I had to reach over and steady the wheel.

“College? I didn't even go to high school! I don’t mean I dropped out, I didn’t even start. I dropped out of middle school and nobody even noticed. But hey, how hard can this be? I’ve seen a lot of junk in my time, and I ain’t afraid to get dirty. If we see something we think might be worth something, we put it aside and check it out later, no sweat.”

“I can handle that,” I replied, “I’ve seen my share of junk too, believe me.” 

“Ha, it’s called your garage, right,” she took another swing at me, but missed.

“My garage? Hell it’s called my living room,” I replied, and she thought that was funny too.

“This is a dream job, Frankie! It's my dream job, well I never dreamed about a job. You know, it’s a… job… shit. But if I’d known there was a job like this, then I would have dreamed about it, damn straight. Except maybe somewhere warmer…and more populated…and less flat.” 

We, and by that I mean she, talked the whole way, and we were there before I knew it. She talked a lot, but didn’t really say much, and if I pressed her on some things she would shrug it off and change the subject; she was good at that.

“What happened to your rich girl friend,” I asked, suspiciously, well you know, friendly suspiciously.

“Caroline? She went to jail, ten to twenty,” she replied casually.

“Because of your boyfriend?”

“No, something different. Hey Frankie, I’m just trying to stay below the radar, you know.” 

I didn’t know; it seemed like a strange answer though, which reminded me of just how little I knew about our wonderful Mr Smith.

The place wasn’t hard to find, even so, she went breezing past the entrance and we had to make a very hairy U-turn and back track. Max said she’d been there once before, a week or so ago when Mr Smith bought it. She called him Mr Smith, and not Tom, which I thought was a good sign, although on the other hand, she did seem like the kind of woman who might have daddy issues. If I was old enough to be her teen mother, then he was certainly old enough to be her father.

I could see the storage facility, a front office of red brick with bright blue siding, and rows of garages out the back with little peaked rooves also trimmed with blue. There was a tall chain link fence all around the big parking lot that surrounded it. It was wide open, but Max missed the entrance, and turned down an ordinary looking driveway just past the fence line.

“Uh Max,” I said, but she was looking intently through the windshield and speeding up. The long country driveway went up a low hill to a simple, ranch style house. I didn’t know what the hell she was doing, but we were going to run out of driveway real soon.

“Max, slow down!” I shouted in alarm.

She was laughing with glee, like a mad woman, and shouted back at me, “She made it!” 

Then she slammed on the breaks and drifted sideways onto a gravel parking area, over shooting it by half the length of the truck. By the time I’d finished bouncing around and got out of my seatbelt she was gone, leaving her door wide open and the motor still running. At least she’d put it in park; I reached over, turned off the ignition and took the keys.

“She won’t be getting these back if I can help it,” I muttered as I dropped them into my purse. I looked up through the windshield just in time to see her collide with a long legged blonde who she took in a bear hug and lifted off the ground.

I got out shaking my head, shut both the doors and started towards the house. I could see Tom standing in the doorway holding open the screen door and smiling. By the time I got to the steps the entwined young ladies had somehow made it to the top of the steps where Max had the blonde pinned against a post kissing her like mad; one of the blonde’s shapely legs, in very tight pants and long boots, was wrapped around her waist. Okay, I wouldn’t have pegged Max for a lesbian, but then not having any experience, that I know of, with lesbians, I could be excused for not anticipating this. But hey, who am I to judge, and anyway it took a possible competitor out of the picture, ya, I was thinking like that already. Crazy hunh.

“Frankie, you made it!” Tom called out happily from the door.

“Barely,” I replied standing at the bottom of the stairs, hesitant to go any further for fear of getting entangled in whatever was going on up there. Also, I felt disturbing rush of happiness at seeing his smiling, bearded mug, and that kinda took me by surprise. 

He looked happy too. “For Christ’s sake, get a room,” he said to the dry humping pair.

“Really Boss?” Max asked, lifting her face from the blonde’s neck.

“Do us all a favor, take the day off,” he replied.

“Alright, I heard that,” Max said and with the slender blonde still wrapped around her, she went through the door that he was holding open for them.

“Thanks boss,” the blonde called out over Max’s shoulder as they disappeared into the house.

“Be ready to head back at eight,” he said.

“Awwwwwww,” I heard the blonde reply as I cautiously walked up the steps.

“No problem boss, thanks man,” Max added.

It was all very surprising, but also amusing. I just stood there shaking my head and grinning; “What the hell kinda business are you running here anyway, mister?” I asked.

“The happy kind; come on in, I’ll show your around,” he replied with a sweeping gesture of welcome.

CHAPTER TWO  
THE BILL CLINTON RULE

I’ve got to get this off my chest before we go any further, the thing that happened at Tom’s condo, I’ll fill you in on how I got there afterwards.

On the way over to his Condo, Tom had made it very clear to me that my continued employment with the storage company had nothing to do with how…friendly…I was with him. He said he thought we had a thing, ya, that’s how he described it, and that it would be fun for us to spend some time together. But I didn’t have to have any “fun” if I didn’t want to. Fun or no fun, I could keep my job either way with no hard feelings, and he wouldn’t bring it up again.

Damn, I mean who doesn’t want to have fun? Uh, no fun for me thank you, I’ll just stand over here in the corner and be miserable and invisible. But the problem was, it was all up to me. He was putting it out there, he was setting it all up, but I had to pull the trigger. Sure I wanted to have – let’s stop calling it fun - it was sex, he was talking about sex. Sure I wanted to have some sex with him but maybe not….all sex, if you get my meaning. You can see my dilemma here, and my lack of experience, and maybe my poor communication skills as well. 

I still didn’t want to cheat on my Mike. I’d thought I’d crossed a line that afternoon at Tom’s cottage, but afterwards I started to tell myself that, sure it was a line, but maybe it wasn’t…the…line, you know. 

I thought about The Bill Clinton rule – “Ah did not have sexual relations with that woman.” 

Right, so as I understood it – and I had followed the whole Monica Lewinski thing very closely in the tabloids, I could do anything, really …anything… short of letting him stick his penis inside my vagina, and it wouldn’t be considered cheating. Other things, all kinds of other things, could get up in there; that was acceptable. And his penis could go lots of other places, pretty much anywhere it wanted; just as long as it didn’t actually get up inside my vagina, then we were okay.

That left quite a bit of wiggle room, even for someone with as limited an erotic repertoire as me. It seemed that Slick Willy had come up with a very clever way for us to have our cake and eat it too, and who was I to argue with a President of the United States of America? Hell, it would be downright unpatriotic to behave otherwise.

So that was it. I decided that I would stick to The Bill Clinton rule. That might make me a bad girl, but not an actual adulteress. 

With that in mind, while he was out (I’ll get back to that), I started flicking through the satellite channels on the TV in his bedroom; he had the total package, even the adult channels. I came across a movie called “Amateur Blowjob Babes” which seemed perfect for me so I selected it, and started watching my first porno movie ever. 

There was a lot to take in; I had never guessed that there were so many different ways to handle a cock, and these gals were supposed to be amateurs. It was very instructional, more than a little intimidating, and surprisingly arousing. I say surprising because I’d been told all my life how awful porn movies were. This was my first one, and I was watching it on a forty-two inch high definition TV, so you can imagine the…impact…it was having on me.

So I was lying there with one hand on the remote, and the other one…not…on the remote, when I heard him come through the door downstairs. I jumped up and hastily started jamming away at buttons before I got the damned thing turned off; I had this mental image of the dish on his roof spinning like crazy until it flew right off and went through a neighbor’s window. He came up the stairs really fast, and I just had time to toss the remote onto his bed before he came through the door.

“Ah, Frankie, great, you’re up …and you’re dressed.”

Well sort of. 

After I’d taken an hour-long soak in his Jacuzzi bathtub, and after a two hour nap, I had put on the clothes he had left out for me. So now I was standing there in black, sheer to the waist pantyhose, no panties of course, a wonderful seventy dollar black bra, ya, seventy dollars, I know because I cut the tag off, and a silk robe, in I think it’s called Lapis, well some kind of blue anyways, that came down to mid-thigh, and was hanging open at that moment. 

So, you’d think, standing in a guy’s bedroom, dressed like that, there’d be no question of what to do. I mean, I should have thrown myself into his arms, right? But I kinda froze, blushing from head to toe because I’d almost got caught watching porn. 

Then I noticed that his dress pants were all wrinkled as well as wet and mud splattered at the bottom, and had the presence of mind to say “What happened to you?”

“Oh, I had to help load some stuff that I hadn’t planned on, that’s why I’m late, I’m sorry,” he said, and then came and wrapped me in his manly embrace, and no shit, I almost swooned.

I guess I had been more excited and scared than I’d realized, and when he touched me, it overwhelmed me with such warmth that I kinda sagged into his arms and looked up at him with half closed eyes. My heart was racing and my breasts were heaving, no doubt more attractively than ever before in my life, thanks to Victoria’s Secret.

He took that as an invitation and bent down and gave me a passionate kiss. We had only been apart for two days, but it felt like two months to me. He started slow, almost like the first time, gently tasting my lips, playing with them with his tongue before he started working it into my mouth, hunting mine down and tangling with it. He slid his hands underneath the robe, pushed it off my shoulders and then started kissing the base of my neck. I moaned and helped him shrug the thing off of me so that it fell to the floor. He broke off the kiss; he was a little breathless too, not as much as me, but he was excited, no question, excited and reassuringly aroused by the feel of the bulge in his pants.

“I gotta change, and wash up a bit, but I’ll be quick and we can go for a late lunch” he said, only slightly easing up his grip on me.

“Sure,” I replied, not easing up on my grip at all.

“Hmmm, that eye shadow looks good on you, Frankie, and that lipstick,” he said and then kissed me again, not for as long, but starting out as soft and teasing as the first time. One hand played at the back of my neck while the other strayed down my back giving me goosebumps all over.

Without being asked I started unbuttoning his shirt. It felt like such a natural, and sexy thing to do, and yet, it was something I’d never done with Mike. Shit, stop thinking about Mike, I told myself.

While I was working on his shirt he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper. I shoved his shirt open and back over his shoulders, God what a great feeling that was, and then I boldly started kissing his chest, and then, without any hesitation I started sucking on one of his cute little nipples, something else I’d never done to anyone before. To my surprise he grabbed the back of my head and pulled it in tighter to his chest. I guess I was better at sucking nipple than I was at sucking cock.

He let go of me so he could pull down his pants. He took them and his underwear off together in a couple of swift movements, and then stood there with his big, hard cock sticking out, curving up in front of him and said, “Did you see the dress I bought for you?”

“You bought me a dress?” I gasped, not from surprise, I was still recovering from the kiss. Of course I’d seen it. I’d noticed it hanging in his closet right away while I was doing a thorough snoop of the premises. It was the only dress in the place, so I was kinda hoping it was for me, although the idea of someone buying me a dress seemed totally bizarre.

“I….”he started to say.

I didn’t let him finish. I leapt forward, threw my arms around him, and attacked his mouth with mine while at the same time I rubbing my silky crotch against his naked leg. 

“Why don’t you show me later,” I growled, ya growled would be the best word. I was overcome with desire. I wanted to kiss him and caress him, and I was eager to take another shot at his magnificent cock. I had forgotten about Mike and just about everything else, although the ex-president remained firmly lodged in the back of my mind. I could see him back there somewhere, giving me the thumbs up.

I didn’t give Tom a chance to object as I started licking my way down his body, sinking to my knees as I went. I had seen a lot of that from the blowjob babes, and figured it would be a good place to start. Now I’m not suggesting that this guy was a body builder or anything, but he had pronounced pecks, and flattish stomach. I’m not talking ironing board flat, but flatter than mine, and he had very small love handles, also smaller than mine.

I’m in pretty good shape, after all I’ve had a gym membership for ten years, and I faithfully go at least once, maybe even twice a year. In truth I was in better shape than I had any right to be, considering how poorly I ate and how little I exercised. I put it down to a very fortunate metabolism, lack of money to really pig out, and my own personal nervous energy. Not the kind of energy that makes you dash around doing things, but the kind where your mind is in a constant state of thinking and worrying about doing things. I read somewhere that thinking burns calories.

Anyway, let’s just say that he was in good enough shape to be exciting, and not too good to be freaky for a guy his age, or too buff to make me feel bad. His chest hair was a light grey, and he very well groomed. And he was very well trimmed, down there, you know, where I was headed at that moment. His pubes were trimmed back, not like a brush cut or anything, but not all wild and unruly and scraggly like Mikes. I mean even his balls were smooth. You might think that would be disturbing, but it was very nice, and I guess it added to my desire to hang around down there.

So I’m kissing down his body, and trying to settle down onto my knees, and his cock jams up against my throat – I don’t mean the inside, It hooked me under the chin like a trout on a fish hook. He was very patient with me as I unsnagged, and grabbed his shaft with both hands to realign myself. This wasn’t forty two inch HD, no it was much better than that. For one thing there was the smell, his smell, which I was quickly becoming fond of. In fact it acted as a surefire aphrodisiac that went in through my nose and straight down into my pussy. Fortunately he wasn’t as big as a couple of guys I saw on TV, but he was bigger than some, so I had to conclude that I was like some young kid sent up from the minors and could be excused for struggling a bit in the big league, you know.

Trying to remember what I had just seen, I got right in front of it, took it in both hands and pulled it down and sucked just the head into my mouth. It felt really good. The head filled my whole mouth and it was easy to suck on it, natural, and I just sucked. Everybody knows how to suck, like sucking on a really, big hard candy, and my tongue played on the underside of it. I sucked, and just naturally sucked it in a bit farther, taking in maybe three inches more before it hit the back of my mouth, which still left me lots of room to keep both of my hands on the shaft. He helped me out by standing very still; maybe he was just really nervous. He placed one hand firmly on the top of my head and the other on my shoulder, not so much guiding me, as restraining me. 

“That’s good Frankie, that’s good,” he said and he mostly sounded pleased, but also a little wary.

So, I was sucking hard with my mouth full right to the back, and I’m making good use of my big nostrils to haul in the air. My hands are working the shaft back and forth, feeling the silky skin slide over the hard meat underneath, and I realized, that despite a bit of sweat, my hands were dry, and I was probably chaffing the poor guy. And I remembered, oh ya, I’m supposed to lick it first. So I hastily whipped it out of my mouth, shifted clumsily to one side and start licking up and down the shaft; licking and slobbering, and going back over his shiny head. My hands were getting in the way, so I automatically reached one around to grab his hard, tense butt, while the other one had a grip on his balls which felt really hard.

Then I remembered how those Blowjob Babes all went after the underside of the balls, so I got his shaft pointed upwards with one hand, and ran my tongue down it to the balls. I tried to get one of them in my mouth which you would think they wouldn’t like, but it seemed to be a hit in the movie. 

Ladies, have you ever tried to snag a ball using just your mouth? It’s not easy, those fucking things wobble all over the place. Tom was no spring chicken so they had some…dangle… to them. Hey, I’m not trying to be gross here, I didn’t think it was gross, I wanted to do it; I wanted to suck on one of those bastards. I was doing all this with my eyes closed, of course, but I could sense that my performance wasn’t going well, so frantically I tried to get my face, and my tongue right down underneath his balls. I knew just from reading Cosmo that this was the sweet spot for guys, but even though he spread his legs for me, I had a hell of a time. It was all so awkward that all I really remember is that it everything seemed to be going every which way; balls swinging, cock wobbling and everything slippery and out of control.

I extracted myself from his undercarriage, flushed and sweaty and a little desperate. I could feel a suggestive, upward pressure from his hands, but I wasn’t ready to admit defeat. I knew I could rescue the whole thing. I got back in front of him and shoved, that’s the right word, shoved his now slippery dick into my mouth, sucked on it, and then, trying to imitate what I had seen on TV, I lowered my head and tilted it back. 

Deep throat, if there was one thing I knew, if there’s one thing everybody knows, its that guys love deep throat. I figured with my big mouth and big nostrils I’d be a natural.

I had the set up right; I could feel the head at the entrance of my throat, and I was so eager to do something right that I very hastily pushed my head forward and up. The head of his cock went into my throat, probably about a quarter of an inch, but it felt like a foot. I immediately gagged and threw myself back. I think he must have yanked it out too, because the next thing I knew he was kneeling beside me while I hacked away. I had collapsed onto my ass, and was leaning forward with my head down and my shoulders bent forward, hacking and coughing and sucking in air. I didn’t throw up or anything, thank God, but I did spit and dribble a bit on his nice hardwood floor.

“Are you Okay, Frankie?” he asked.

I nodded, I had already caught my breath. It’s all psychological, you know, it’s not like I had been under water for five minutes or something. I hadn’t even been deprived of oxygen at all, it was just a natural reflex, but God I was so embarrassed I couldn’t look up.

He lifted my chin; “Hey Frankie, are you okay?” he asked again.

I managed to open my watery eyes; “Sorry, Tom…”

He smiled and wiped some of the saliva from my chin and lips. “Don’t be sorry, Frankie. Come on, I think it might be safer up on the bed.” 

That made me chuckle. That’s the kind of guy he was. It was the tone of his voice; I really got the feeling that everything was okay, and that I wasn’t being judged or being disappointing. He helped me to my feet, lay me down with a pillow propped up under my head, and went and got me a glass of water. I drank the water, wiped my eyes, and my mouth and chin and managed a smile.

“Wine?” he asked.

“Oh yes, oh ya, thanks Tom.”

He poured us both a glass of wine and then climbed into bed beside me.

“I’m not good at that sort of thing,” I confessed. “I have no experience; I want to…I mean I really want to, but…”

“Don’t sweat it Frankie. I never figured you for a porn star. Relax, it takes time for two people to get to know each other. You’re such an eager beaver.”

That made me chuckle too, and after another big gulp of wine my head-to-toe flush of embarrassment faded. One thing about me, I get knocked down a lot, but I bounce back pretty quickly. I cocked my head, rolled over on my side like him and stole a look down at his crotch. His cock had subsided, but it was still semi-hard at least, which looked surprisingly arousing for some reason. 

“I didn’t mean to turn you off,” I said.

“You didn’t,” he replied and stroked my hair and cheek lightly. “Most important, just relax, relax and we’ll have fun.”

“But you like that don’t you…you know…blowjobs, right?”

“Sure I do, but it’s not the biggest part of the package.”

“I want to do it for you, I want to keep trying until I get it right,” I said sincerely. I did want to please him, and I did like the taste and feel of his cock in my mouth, and it was also kinda key to the whole Clinton Rule strategy.

“Okay, but not without expert supervision,” he replied with a smile.

I laughed at that, and for a flash the thought ran through my head, “he’s kidding, right?” But he soon had me distracted.

“Right now I’m enjoying the way you look,” he said. He slid his hand off of my face and started tracing my Victoria’s Secret enhanced mounds. “That bra looks great on you.” His hands drifted down over my hips. “Legs look great too.”

Again I was overcome with a rush of emotions, way too dangerous emotions. I felt a nearly uncontrollable sexual desire, and …gratefulness… bordering on, well let’s call it…deep affection for him at that moment. I rolled right into him and started kissing him with abandon. He kissed me back, just as eagerly as far as I could tell, at least he didn’t seem to notice that I had spilled half my wine on his pillow in the process.

Entwined, we rolled over so that I was on my back, and after a very long and satisfying kiss he removed his mouth, put his glass on the end table, and did the same to mine, after I drained it, and then returned to stroking my body. I couldn’t help but notice that his boner was back with a vengeance.

“So, I take it you’re not in a big hurry to go to lunch?” he said.

“No, I’m good for now,” I managed, and that was true. I hadn’t eaten a lot, but I was definitely hungrier for him than for food. In fact my stomach was so full of butterflies I couldn’t have kept down a bite.

“Well then I think I’ll take the opportunity to have a bit of fun.”

Fun, there it was again, he wanted to have “fun”. What exactly was included in “fun” I was not sure, but I quickly learned that it included using his tongue on every inch of my body.

The last time, and I remembered it very well, he had stoked me all over while I was laying on my stomach. This time he explored top side. I could tell he truly enjoyed tracing his fingers over my body, loving the feel of the bra and the pantyhose, he really liked the pantyhose, so I was now sure that was a thing with him. I laid back and let him have at me, doing my best to relax and not be impatient. It was hard to do, to just lay there with myself exposed. I mean dogs like to have their bellies scratched don’t they, and so do people, but it goes against a lifetime of brainwashing about modesty. The fact that I was far from naked helped. He got a couple of giggles out of me at first, but as he increased the pressure of his fingers and went to firmly using the palm of his hand, I was more likely to shiver and moan than titter.

He straddled my calves, and kissed and stroked. Then he slowly pulled down my pantyhose, down past my bush, pause, down to my knees, pause, and then all the way off. He left my bra on, and that was okay with me, it made me feel sexy, and everybody can use an ego boost like that. Once he got my pantyhose off I figured maybe we’d do sixty-nine again like last time. You see, I was still in the sex-is-a-boring-routine frame of mind, which is partly why I was so sure that my plan to stay on this side of the cheater line would work. 

It wasn’t going to work that way. He spread my legs and lay down between them. I had a sinking feeling. “Ah, Tom you don’t have to…”

Mike had attempted...cunilingus…only twice, but had given up pretty quickly, which was a relief, because he was lousy at it. I’m sure he was even worse at it than I was at…fellatio…God those are funny words, no wonder no one ever uses them. I guess he just wasn’t an oral kind of guy, he didn’t talk much either. Anyway, he sucked, and I never encouraged him to try again. He could be pretty good with his fingers sometimes, he had very long fingers, but he always gave up way too soon on that too.

“Oh, I want to, believe me Frankie,” he replied and started kissing my inner thighs, which felt pretty good, Mike had never done that. I was still kinda tense though, up on my elbows with my eyes closed. For some reason I wasn’t ready yet to see Tom’s face buried in my pussy. I let him spread my thighs a few more inches, and then he started going after, you know, where your legs join your crotch, and that was really different, and also felt pretty good.

It’s not like he had to apply any more…lubrication…down there, I was very wet already, and that must have been obvious to him, by sight, and smell. I still found that embarrassing, but at least I knew I was clean and fresh, and in the back of my mind Bill was still nodding with approval.

“Trust me Frankie, lie back and relax,” Tom said and then nuzzled my pussy, by which I mean he was gently rubbing his face in my bush with his nose just above my swollen clit. That felt nice, and he had done that before, so I let myself sink back down on the bed. After all, I thought, there was no reason to compare Tom to Mike in this department, in fact there wasn’t any reason to be thinking of Mike at all, damn it.

Relaxed. Hell I was getting very aroused, and well… vocal.

“Oh...oh…ah...Ummmm…oh yes…oh my…oh,” something like that as he kept introducing me to wonderful new sensations with every little flick and lick of his expert tongue.

Anyway, the things he was doing down there, and I wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, I mean, it’s not like I ever had my face in a woman’s box before, started to feel very good. I didn’t relax exactly, but I soon forgot about Mike, and just about everything else, including Slick Willy.

He went from my pussy lips to licking the inside my pussy, and then really started to go to town on my clit which caused me to increase my one sided conversation. “Oh God…yes…yesssss, God…oh my God…that…oh that…yes!”

It was new and fantastic, and yet the critical, hyper side of my mind couldn’t be stilled, even by what he was doing with his mouth, and did I mention his hands, they were stroking my belly, sometimes my clit, and teasing my pussy lips lower down. Oh ya, and there’s the beard, which I might have mentioned, and that certainly added to the newness and delight of the whole thing. 

But I’m getting off track here; the thing is I was having nervous thoughts all the while, mostly because I could hear myself, which was disturbing because I didn’t do that sort of thing. Mike and I had almost always had sex with little ears nearby, and had learned to be quiet about it. Well at least I learned to be quiet, I’m sure it came naturally to him. 

Who was this new Frankie, I wondered. And could she be controlled?

The words just kept tumbling out of my mouth and I was hearing myself saying them out loud for the first time. I guess I’d been shouting these things inside my head all these years, but not really paying attention. He wasn’t helping the situation by driving me crazy. I kinda hoped that he couldn’t really hear me down there, you know, with his head way down there, and with my thighs clamping shut on his ears from time to time, usually in unison with my hips driving up off the bed.

And now, out of nowhere I started with the directions.

“Yes, oh…my…yes…Tom…there…there…no…yes…right there…oh… that feels good. And… oh…that…oh my…uh…Tom…Tom…oh no don’t stop doing that!”

You might think that would have clarified things a bit for him, for us, but it didn’t really. He seemed to be responding to my feedback; if I moaned, that I liked something, he would keep doing it for a while, but then he would go on to something else and usually get the same response. Because it was all good. I figured that he must have been able to hear me, but he wasn’t so much following directions as gathering intelligence to use against me for the final…push…no that’s too simple…ah, the final flourish…gathering intelligence for his final, tongue-lashing flourish.

He didn’t seem to be in any kind of a hurry, but I was getting frustratingly close to orgasm. I grabbed the back of his head, pushed his face right in there and started humping his tongue. 

I had lost all control, but I could still faintly hear my own cries of “Fuck…fuck…oh yes…fuck…fuck…fuck… me! Oh ya…fuck me, fuck me, fuckme! Ahhhhhh FUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK!!!

I have never spoken like that before in my life, not even inside my own head. That gives you an idea of how fantastic the orgasm was that was sweeping over my body, and how relaxed I had already become with him. Talk about exposing yourself. At the time it was just wild meaningless shouting and panting, and I really don’t think that I meant it as, you know…an invitation… but he could be excused for thinking of it that way. In fact it might well have sounded like a very urgent and sincere request.

Because he took me at my word. While I was still stupefied and twitching in the throes of ecstasy, he moved up from my pussy to my face, and guided the big head of his cock to my pussy lips. And without any further ado, slowly, but relentlessly shoved it in. This immediately kicked my current, ongoing orgasm into high gear and piled another, different sort of one on top of it. You girls know what I mean, well I hope you do, because believe me it was fucking FAN-TAS-TIC!

I believe my instructions at that point were “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….Fuck! Fuck…oh fuck!” So again, I may have encouraged him to put his penis into my vagina. Or more appropriately, his big, hot, hard, cock into my sodden, swollen, eager cunt. Pardon my French.

The head felt huge, and even as soaking wet as I was, it felt like the head of a baseball bat was plowing up inside me, not that I know what that actually feels like, it was just the image I had in my head. What can I say, all the cliché’s come to mind, his iron rod, his mighty staff, plunging into my tight, clenching hole. Well, all kinda like that, and a lot more like I just don’t have words for. Combined with the rolling series of orgasms I was having, I was literally breathless, panting like a bitch in heat, as we used to say. 

I was in no condition to object, and I had no desire in the world to object, which makes a bit odd that I now started saying “Ohhh...uhh… No…no…Oh…Tom…no…oh fuck…no…ahhh.” It wasn’t that I wanted him to stop, so much as a kind of “No, I can’t believe this,” and “no I can’t take all this fucking pleasure.”

“You’re killing me!” I panted, and yes he was, but in a really good way.

He must have heard me because he stopped, probably with his manhood halfway up my wazoo. This gave me a second to catch my breath, and open my eyes which had been clenched tightly shut for god knows how long. I looked into his handsome face, his beard darkened by my juices; he looked happy, but also quizzical.

“Oh don’t stop Tom, oh God no, don’t stop now. Fuck me, fuck me slowly.” Okay, so that was pretty much a clear statement of my desire, clear and very, very honest.

He smiled and kissed me, crushing my lips. His tongue and mouth were slick with, well, me, and I accepted the taste and the smell, and the outright, wonderful nastiness of it all, and let him roam about my mouth with his tongue while he resumed driving his cock all the way home. I closed my eyes, threw my arms around his neck and abandoned myself to ecstasy as he slowly and smoothly slid his big, fat, cock, in and out of my willing, hot hole. In the distance amongst the clouds I could see Slick Willy shaking his head.

“Ah admire your courage Frankie, but I can’t help you now. You’re fucked,” he said. Well I certainly had been, that’s for sure. And really, it would be fair to say that it was the first time in my life that I had been truly fucked.

Aright, so I’m no Monica Lewinski.

####

Okay, now that we all know about…that, let me back up a bit.

If you recall from last chapter (those of you who read it) buxom Max had just carried off her leggy girlfriend Caroline into the house next to the storage facility, leaving me and Tom at the entrance.  
And if you’re just interested in the sex, you skip down to the next chapter. Yes, there’s more.

“Take your boots off, but leave your coat on, we’ll only be here a couple of minutes,” he said as we entered the house. “This is where you guys will do the research, and handle the auctions, or whatever ways you decide to sell particular items.” 

He led me into what would normally have been the living room of the house. There was a fireplace at the far end, but it was empty and the room was sparsely furnished with only a couple of tables with computers set up on them, a couch, a couple of easy chairs, and some empty bookshelves. 

“The garage is right there, so you can keep the interesting stuff in there until you check it out or sell it.”

“When you say “you” just who do you mean exactly?” I asked.

“You, Max and Caroline are going to do the clean-up and the treasure hunting, Caroline will mostly be on the research side, she’s actually had courses in antiques and collectables and economics and stuff.”

“So that was Caroline?”

“Ya, Max’s girlfriend.”

“Max said she was in jail.”

“She was, we just sprung her; they haven’t seen each other for almost a year, that’s why they’re so crazy,” he laughed. 

I could hear noises of a somewhat crazy kind coming from down the hallway, again I needed clarification; “When you say “sprung”…..”

He laughed at that; “Legally; she’s out on parole, Frankie” he replied. “What did you think, we busted her out?” he teased.

“How the hell would I know, you people aren’t from around here,” I replied.

“Same deal as Max, she’s here to stay out of trouble for a while.”

I wanted to pursue that some more, but the tour was moving on; he took me down a short hall showed me the laundry room, a big bathroom, kitchen and dining room. “This will be your lunch room, Caroline will keep it stocked; she’s living here now, so she’ll be responsible for keeping it clean, I’m sure that all those years of watching her maids must have taught her something.”

Again I wanted to speak but as we passed back towards the living room I could hear Max shouting something like “Yeeehaaa!” and what was definitely the sound of a headboard being knocked against the wall. Tom rapped the closed door a couple of times as he passed, “You break anything, you own it!” he shouted.

“You got it boss,” Max shouted back, while the knocking continued without a break. I also heard giggling.

“Does that include bones?” Caroline called out after she made a little squeal.

“Okayyyyyy,” I thought, “first day on a new job is always a little weird.”

On the other side of the living room there were two bedrooms. “Pick which one you like and it’s yours. You can use it to keep your stuff , and you can crash there if you stay overnight or get caught waiting for a ride, or whatever,” he said.

The basement had a first class home theatre with a big screen TV, easy chairs and a big couch; “Break room,” he said.

“Satellite?” I asked hopefully.

“Complete package,” he replied.

“I’m really starting to like this,” I said.

In reply he put his arms around me and his tongue into my mouth. Should I have been surprised? I had no idea what the hell was going on, but, you know, a nice hot kiss in a dark room on a Monday morning can be pretty thrilling. I gave in to it, threw my arms around his shoulders, a little awkwardly with both of us in our coats, and let him back me up against the wall. We kissed and ground up against each another for a couple of minutes before he stepped back. “Come on,” he said.

”What, there’s more?” I laughed as he hustled me up the stairs in front of him. I really had no clue where we were going now, but what the hell, I was making twelve bucks and hour with benefits, right?

We put our boots back on, and Tom shouted as we walked out; “I’m locking the door,” but we didn’t get any kind of coherent answer. 

I felt funny, and a little guilty now about thinking that he might have had something going with Max. He seemed to treat her like a wayward daughter, it was paternal, and also cool; I felt another surge of attraction for him, and not just in my naughty parts.

####

Then he took me over to the storage office where I met Vince, the guy from the fire training center, and his wife Joyce who took care of the office. They were a couple of characters too, but I can fill you in on them later; I didn’t anticipate any trouble working with her. The main thing was that she set up my pay and benefits. I was gonna get paid every two weeks and the commission money would be divided up at the end of each month. 

After she got me through all the forms she pulled up a small travel bag with the company logo on it. She opened the zipper pocket at one end and put in the handful of pamphlets and books about the benefits and mandatory rules and stuff, “you can read this when you’ve got time, I find it’s good for putting me to sleep,” she said.

She handed the bag over to me, it was much heavier than I expected; “I figured you probably didn’t know what to bring, so I picked up a few things for you to keep up at the ranch, you know to freshen up. We’ll be working twelve hour a day sometimes, and you’re gonna get pretty dirty, and want to take a shower.

“Oh, thank you, that’s very thoughtful… when I get my first pay…”

“Don’t be silly kiddo,” she cut me off with a scoff and a wave. “Employee benefits, the boss is paying the bill,” she laughed.

“Well thank you for thinking of it, and going to the trouble,” I replied sincerely.

“No problem, hey, we’re gonna be like a big family here, us girls gotta stick together.”

We said quick good-byes, but Tom gave no explanations as to where we were going as we went out the door and got back into his truck. We did a slow cruise around the perimeter of the lot so he could show me the layout of the units then we were back out to the highway heading towards Midland and away from “The Ranch”, as they seemed to be calling it, that was probably still being rocked by Max and Caroline.

“Where to now?” I asked.

“My place, staff meet and greet party,” he replied with a grin.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m the only employee that’s gonna be there? I replied with light hearted suspicion.

“Because you’re a clever girl Frankie, that’s what I like about you,” he replied with a laugh reaching over to give my knee a squeeze. 

His condo was in a brand new unit of eight townhouses overlooking the Wabash River south of Midland. I didn’t even know they had places like that in Midland, but then we didn’t go there very often. Hell why would anyone want to leave Orson, right? 

So we went in, he gave me a tour, and took me to the bedroom. I figured this was where the party was going to start, but instead he told me to relax, take a bath, take a nap, and he’d be back around noon to take me to lunch. Oh ya, there was a big bouquet of flowers, not roses, but with some roses in it, on the coffee table with a card that said “Welcome to the team Frankie.” So keep that in mind as well.

You know what happened after that.

###

Well not everything. When we left the last naughty part I believe I was right in the middle of getting fucked. 

Ya, right. Well, he really pounded me hard, in a straight forward manner, nothing fancy, although, his technique was excellent, and of course the very size of his cock, made it all better than anything I’d ever experienced before. Size isn’t everything, but it does matter. 

I guess he was pretty horny because despite my contradictory exclamations, or maybe because of them, he was ready to come pretty quickly. I sensed that, and whispered in her ear, “Go ahead, and come inside me, it’s okay. Go ahead Tom, I want it.” 

I’m on the pill, so it was no problem. Neither one of us had said anything about a condom; I know it’s wrong, but I was comfortable with that, and obviously so was he. Anyway I got to feel his full hot load spurting inside me, and that really topped things off.

Afterwards we cuddled for a while, turns out he was a pretty good cuddler. We drank some more wine, sharing a glass, and then I drifted off to sleep again. When I woke up he was lying on the bed beside me, flat on his back with his hands behind his head, I think he’d been dozing too, but he had obviously hit the shower already, and now he was wearing a long, light grey robe, not silk, but some lightweight material, kinda formal looking. I felt sticky and nasty all over, and realized I must look a mess so I hustled into the bathroom and got into his big, glass shower with it’s big powerful showerhead.

I was pretty quick about it, concentrating on washing away the evidence of my sinful behavior. But really, I couldn’t work up any guilt, or remorse, or even any nervousness, I guess I was still on a post coital high. Well I had been in a state of orgasm (if that’s a thing) for a long time, I guess a whole lot of endorphins, or whatever, had completely flooded my derelict system; so it made sense that it would take me while to come down. I looked at myself in the mirror and all I thought was that I looked pretty good.

I had brought my company bag with me when I arrived, and so had everything I needed to freshen up, including some make up. Joyce was very thoughtful, the lipstick was a bit bold for me, but what the hell; l was a ruined woman anyways. I used his blow dryer to dry my hair, and I thought that it was a little strange. He sure as hell didn’t need one for himself, so then who was it for, did he get it just for me? I realized again that I really knew very little about Mr Smith.

He was lying on the bed when I came out, looking like he hadn’t moved an inch. He was a very quiet man, I don’t mean uncommunicative like Mike, quiet in his manner. I had given up trying not to think of Mike, even though this was the kind of thing I wanted to avoid – you know, comparing them like I had a choice. 

No he was…still. He was lying there, not watching TV, not listening to the radio, not reading, and especially not staring into a god damned I phone. In fact I hadn’t seen him with any kind of a mobile phone or gadget at all, which was very unusual these days, especially for a businessman, but also very nice. I’d had to give up mine months ago because we couldn’t afford it. Mr Smith it seemed, liked quiet, it didn’t occur to me at the time that I was a person who had trouble keeping quiet.

All I had on was the new robe he’d bought me, but I felt very comfortable, too comfortable, as I lay down beside him. All he did was give me a slow smile and, god damn it, I kissed him. It was a really nice kiss and that was what was so awful about it. It was a lover’s kiss, a familiar, even possessive kiss, on my part. I snuggled into him and he threw an arm around my shoulder and I felt right at home. I was at peace for about ten minutes until that song started up in my head, you know the one by that group “She’s an easy lover.” Oh my God, I was a lover! No, that couldn’t be possible, holy shit.

Son of a bitch. I had started out the day deciding to risk putting my foot gingerly on a slippery slope, and it turned out to be a freaking…cliff! I was over the edge just like that, and I hadn’t been pushed mister, I’d jumped. Oh my God, what had I done?

 

CHAPTER THREE  
FRANKIE MIDLAND

“So Tom, were you ever married?” I had been dying to ask him that question since I’d first met him, well, since I’d first stripped for him, at least. Of course I wanted to know, but I also I hoped that bringing up, marriage, might cool down whatever the hell was going on between us. 

I had been nervous about asking him because I had no idea what the…protocol…was for this kind of thing, and he seemed a very private person, so I was a bit surprised when he replied easily. “Yes I was, twenty-two years.”

“Oh, what happened?” I asked, like did she cheat on you, did you cheat on her? Of course I didn’t think, that’s my problem, I don’t think, and I talk too much.

“She died. Aggressive leukemia, she was only forty-two.”

I wanted to crawl under the covers; instead I burrowed my head deeper under his arm. “Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry.” I said.

“That’s okay Frankie, it’s a reasonable question, and how could you know.” He reached down and dug my chin out and lifted my face towards him. He had a sympathetic smile. 

“I didn’t mean to pry,” I said, which wasn’t true.

I had done my best to pry while he was gone, and that was the thing you see, his condo was fully furnished in a very tasteful manner, but apart from his clothes and a few toiletry articles there was nothing personal at all, no photos or mementos, or anything. But I’m sure I sounded sincere, I mean I was sincere about the sorry part, my eyes were a bit misty as I looked up into his brave, kind face.

“It’s okay, really, it was six year ago,” he said. “I keep that part of my life kinda separate from what I do these days.”

So what did I do? Well, come on, what was I supposed to do? I climbed up his chest and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, maybe one of the best I’ve ever delivered in my life, so it’s not his fault that it turned him on, the poor guy. And it did. It started out soft, and then got deeper and more passionate, and the next thing I knew I was on top of him and his cock was as hard as rock again. I started out trying to defuse the whole thing and ended up practically raping him. I never think things through.

I threw off my robe, and while I lay on top of him, leaned forward and kept kissing him with my hands on both sides of his face, I started rubbing my pussy up and down on his big shaft that was running straight up from his crotch to his belly. He was long and thick, and I was very quickly soaking wet, and that’s not normal for me, not twice in one day. 

This was a position I was familiar with. Although I normally don’t like to work too hard, I still always preferred to be on top because Mike was so tall that it was like getting fucked under a fallen tree trunk. Dragging my pussy lips along Tom’s cock got the juices going so fast that I didn’t even have to reach down. He grabbed his shaft and raised it just a little and I slid right in on the back stroke, his whole big cock going right up inside me slick as you please. Slick, and delightful. I moaned very loudly. 

This was another new sensation. The position was familiar, but with his much bigger cock, even as wet as I was, it was… devastating. I stopped kissing him, put my hands on his shoulders, straightened a little, and then slowly shoved myself the rest of the way in. I stopped and panted, and started babbling again.

“Ummmm, oh, oh… oh… Ohhhhhhh, oh... God yes, yessssssss,” this was expressed in a very long sigh, almost like his cock was pushing the air out of my body as I settled down on it. His big shaft went all the way inside me, pushing open places that had never been opened before. It must have released another flood of those little endorphin fellows, because I felt a rippling warmth flowing up from my belly and down from my shoulders until they wrapped up my whole body. I sagged down on top of him with my face beside his, and we hugged each other tightly.

By this point I was gone, I was lost to the world, again. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, I just… was. So I couldn’t really be held responsible for my actions.

All this time he was hugging me around he shoulders and was keeping his hips…respectfully… steady while I went through…that. It wasn’t as concentrated as an orgasm, it was more all-encompassing, like a big warm ocean wave rather than a bolt of lightning. Well, you know me, or at least you must be getting to know me by now, and of course, I couldn’t stay still for long, couldn’t just enjoy the dreamy oblivion. I felt wonderful and warm, but I was still, very, very horny, and before long I started rocking a little, enjoying the feel of his big head, I mean I could really feel it up in there, feel it moving in and out just a little, and then a little more, and then I let go of him and pushed myself slowly into a half upright position with my hands on his chest and started riding him for real.

My eyes were squeezed tight, and I was sucking in air through my nose like a steam engine, and I was off again. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, of God, Tom, oh Tom it feels soooo good ugh yes, yes, yes!” the words popping out of me in time with my ass hammering down on his strong thighs.

I keep going on about my dirty talk to show you what a…passionate…woman I had suddenly become. And also because I’m sure that the words were having an impact on Tom, and influenced his behavior from that time on. I think that words are revealing, especially ones you don’t think about, and so I was revealing myself to him, and to me, at the same time. At any rate, he started bucking up against me, and we very quickly developed a great rhythm.

I straightened right up, groaning at the new pleasure this brought, and gingerly settled back with my hands braced behind me on his shins, and started kinda dragging my pussy up his shaft and lowering it back down again. He rose up to meet me with his hips each time, and that took him even deeper inside me. He was huge, and I couldn’t take it for too long before I settled back down on him, almost flat. His cock was so securely lodged in me that I could do that, and then started thrusting my hips like a jokey driving all out for the finish line.

“Yess, yes, yess, Tom, yes. Tom oh Tom you are soooo fucking big, you are so fucking beautiful, oh Ohhhhh Fuuuuuuuk!” there it was again, like I needed to explain to him what was going on.

The point I’m trying to make is that I never, ever, talked like that before in my whole life. Okay, two points I guess; I don’t know where it all came from, I was like a different woman, one I couldn’t even recognize, but more importantly, he couldn’t know that I didn’t holler and swear and rant like a harlot all the time. This was the first, well second, time that he’d fucked me, so for all he knew, that’s who I was. He had to have the impression that Frankie Heck was some kind of sex maniac, a wild woman. I’m telling you this now, but I wasn’t thinking about it at the time. It was only later when I remembered everything I had done, that this occurred to me with a feeling of embarrassed horror.

God, what must he think of me? How could I look him in the face again? Surely he would see me, panting and screaming and swearing, my eyes screwed shut, sweaty bangs bouncing every time he looked at my face from now on. And whenever I opened my mouth, what would he expect to come out?

No doubt I was making quite an impression, but it wasn’t exactly the kind I wanted to make, and worse, it wasn’t necessarily something that I could live up to, or down to, in the future. Meanwhile, he was fairly quiet, moaning and sighing with pleasure now and again, letting a soft, “oh ya,” slip from his lips from time to time, and the occasional, equally soft “Frankie, Frankie, ummhh.” And whenever I opened my eyes he looked very happy.

“Tom…Oh Tom! Oh Tom that’s so good! Oh Tom, I lov…” 

Ya it almost came out, but it was so shocking to me, even in the state that I was in, that I clamped my mouth shut, scared half to death. If he heard it, he didn’t let on. He’s a gentleman, as I have always said. For me, it shut me up, at least stopped me from forming complete words for a while. It was just a…thing…just the endorphins and the horniness talking, right? I mean, it’s almost like we’re programmed to say that when we’re getting a good fucking, almost like a justification for getting so carried away. Everything was going way too fast, way too fast.

Did he hear me? Did it have an effect on him? Well, right after that he grabbed me, rolled me over, spread my legs and mounted me, entering quick and easy, and then started pounding away even harder than before.

Maybe he was trying to shut me up for both our sakes, but I think it was me that made him crazy. He just kept going and going, like a jack hammer. He had my hips up, his hands grabbing my ass. Talk about getting fucked. At least it did shut me up, because all I could do was moan and grunt, and come. 

I had another orgasm, but you know what, he was so carried away by this time that he just kept hammering, and I found myself clinging to his neck for dear life until finally he came again with a long happy groan and a very heartwarming; “Oh yaaaa, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” before he collapsed on top of me.

Yes it is very gratifying to be recognized for your efforts, but damn it, I had wanted to slow things down. “Frankie, Frankie, Frankie!” you said it mister.

 

####

So once again I found myself in one of Tom’s showers taking my time, trying to get my head together before I faced him. Really taking my time even though the hot water made my pussy sting like hell. It didn’t scare me, I didn’t think that he’d given me an infection or anything – I knew exactly why it burned. It burned because it had just had the workout of its life. Twice in a matter of hours! And with a great, big, never before experienced or accommodated cock. Oh ya, we had built up some friction alright. But it wasn’t my physical well-being that worried me, it was the apparent loss of my mind that had me concerned.

Thoughts were chasing each other around in my head. What was this? Was it a real affair? Was Frankie Heck actually having affair, and if so, how the hell was it going to end? There I was asking myself how it was going to end and I wasn’t even sure that it had started yet.

Maybe he thought I was just a slut – no that wasn’t possible I kept saying to myself, he knew who I was when he tried to seduce me. Well, maybe he just thought he knew who I was. After all, I stripped for him on the first date, had oral sex with him on the second, and had mad crazy sex with him on the third, twice!

And…this was just my first day at work.

I did calm down after a while, those endorphin things again, I guess. I got out and dried myself off and looked at myself in the steamy mirror and said. “This did not happen. This did not happen to Frankie Heck, because you are not Frankie Heck, no way.”

The most reassuring thing was that after I got through the rest of today, I wouldn’t be seeing him again for a while. I forgot to mention that on the way over he’d told me that he had to go to Chicago for business and didn’t know for how long, at least four or five days, maybe longer. That was why he wanted to make sure I was all set up and felt welcome at the company. 

Son of a bitch, ya, I felt pretty welcome.

I pulled myself together, straightened myself up again, trying to erase all traces of the other Frankie Heck. I was going to leave off the makeup and try to appear innocent and wholesome, but then I changed my mind and decided that a little bit wouldn’t hurt. I would have gotten dressed but my clothes were in the bedroom, so I belted my short robe tightly about my wayward hips, took a deep breath and went back out.

He had already been in the shower. He had jumped up fairly quickly after he rolled off of me, gave me an affectionate kiss on the forehead, ya on the forehead, and went into the shower. One of the few things I now knew about the widower Smith was that he liked to be clean.

To my relief he was just finishing getting dressed, putting on the jacket to a sharp grey suit. He turned and smiled at me, “You gotta be hungry now, Frankie?” he said.

“What kind of a crack is that mister?” I thought, but then I realized that I was famished, and so said with a nervous titter “I could eat.”

He laughed and he came over and kissed me, on the lips, but briefly. “You’re great Frankie,” he said. “Come on, put the dress on and we’ll go someplace nice for…” he looked at his watch. He had a simple black faced watch with a plain black leather strap. “Early supper I guess.”

I looked over at the digital clock on his end table and saw to my surprise that it was already past four – well I guess time flies when you’re getting fucked.

I thought about not putting the dress on, but he looked so happy about it, and I’d seen it and I really wanted to wear it. So I put on my pantyhose and expensive, cheater bra, and got into to the dress. It wasn’t quite the little black dress that I’ve never owned, but it was close – I guess it was more of afternoon, early evening dress, but very nice, and probably fairly pricey. It was from a place called Maurice’s, which I didn’t know, but it wasn’t Dress Barn or even JC Penny. (I looked it up later on the internet and it said it was “a world-class specialty retailer that caters to the young at heart fashionistas in small towns” – well imagine me a fashionista – even a small town one. Anyway there was one in Midland so I figured that’s where he got it.

It was a dark blue, not quite black, and it was amazing how well it fit me – I don’t recall him asking me my dress size, but then again, he did have his hands on me quite a bit in our first two encounters. It was a bit snug in the hips, but not uncomfortable, and I with some craning I could see that it treated my ass very nicely. It came all the way down to a couple of inches below the knee so it had time to fall properly. It was fairly low cut so that with my Victoria secret bra on I was showing about an inch of cleavage and a bit of swelling, the V was broad so that my shoulders were exposed almost, but not quite to the bra strap. I thought I looked great – and I almost never think that about anything I wear. It could have used a strand of pearls, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. 

He got the shoes at the same place, he gave them to me in the box, but not with the receipt, I looked. They also fit, which is to say they only hurt a little. They were Kate Spade Licorice Heel’s, another thing I’d never heard of. They were very simple black pumps with a fairly sturdy heel which I figured to be about three inches because I had to walk very carefully in them. I work in no heels at all, and on the few occasions that I have ever gone out, two inches would be my maximum. 

He took me to a nice place on the outskirts of Midland – it was a classic steakhouse out of the seventies – and I don’t mean a retro thing, it was a steak house that had been around for forty years and hadn’t changed a thing. It was dim and heavily paneled in dark wood, and had those big booths with the stuffed red leather coverings. It was exactly the kind of place I imagined him in.

I found myself staring at him, sitting there in his grey suit and subdued burgundy tie, drinking an old fashioned out of a thick tumbler, and I felt like I was in a time warp. It was like I had magically drifted into some other life that I might have lived. I was warm and comfy, and that’s when the fantasy began.

I wasn’t Frankie Heck. Frankie Heck was a burned out, dried up, old before her time, frump who lived in Orson. Frankie…Midland…Frankie Rebecca Midland, on the other hand was a horse of a very different color. She was a mystery woman, even to me, but I had a feeling she was going to reveal herself more and more as we went along.

That’s how I got over that particular hump – there were now two Frankie’s, who went through a transformation back and forth somewhere on the long empty road between Orson and Midland. Who knows maybe Max was some kind of witch – Miracle Max, wasn’t that from a movie somewhere.

So think about that for a while, okay. Let me know what you think. Do I have a case here for demonic possession, or at least not guilty by reason of insanity?


End file.
